


Punch Me In The Face

by EuphoriaWriter



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, Burlesque, CEO Jack, Dancing, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gay Club, Heterosexual Sex, Homosexual Sex, Homosexual agenda, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Nisha and Rhys smut a lil, Oral Sex, Pole Dancing, Riding, Slow Burn, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Swearing, college student Rhys, eventual Rhack, really long slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-16 13:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14166216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EuphoriaWriter/pseuds/EuphoriaWriter
Summary: Rhys is a college student that can not stop winning bets, the best bet he made was getting a job as a dancer at the Precious Pear, a mixed burlesque gay strip club downtown that just so happened to be owned by a big shot CEO known as Jack Lawrence.





	1. Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is not supposed to be clever or anything, I just couldn't think of a good title.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This entire fic is brought to you by Caravan Palace, New Orleans Burlesque Festival on youtube and 3 am madness.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ObPpC-ZQKHA&list=PLqyi9x5ToOAwe5qgUqhbQp5aS3c32zN9l <<< Watch some of these ladies to get a better idea on how I constructed the fic, because this is NOT based off of Burlesque the Christina Aguilera movie version at all.

Pink, it was always pink.  _ Why? _ Rhys had no clue, according to his manager pink emphasized his “twinkness”. Rhys would of thought the dancing in lingerie four to five times a week to a mix of burlesque-esque songs and covered in body glitter. So he never really understood the need to make him the softest looking thing, sometimes it went a little too far, being put on display like a cat on a fluffed pillow and covered in a costume that Rhys was sure was made of nothing but feathered boas that jockstringed awkwardly up his ass. But the pay from the nights he had to wear that costume were ridiculously huge, he never saw the appeal. Maybe it was just that he was so desensitized to it at this point, he could kind of care less, but a part of him did care, I mean it’s hard not to when your livelihood depends on how much cash you can get shoved in a bedazzled pair of tight pink panties.

Rhys was adjusting the matching pink garter belt hooks to the nylon stockings on his legs when one of his co-workers sat down on the bench across from him. Nick was an odd one, he kind of flitted here and there, he had an unlit cigarette between his lips, still talking and continuing a loud conversation he was telling to the group of his other coworkers getting glittered up before they went on. Nick turns to Rhys, pivoting between him and the group.

“So there I was, ya know, got frosting all over my dick, the missus walks in the door, I’m texting the pizza man and she’s like- ‘is that for me?’,” Nick pauses as the group started to snort and giggle. “I’m like, ‘yeah baby, sure yeah,’ and she fucking starts smacking me and tells me to grow up- ya know like babe, I ordered a pizza and everything, I’m a responsible man.”

Rhys shook his head, he’s given up reasoning to whatever crap that came from Nick’s mouth, although whether or not it’s true it was still an amusing part of his shifts. He humored Nick with a laugh and a grin as he clipped the last of the hooks into place with a snap, feeling the tight pull of the belts on the garter on the stockings. Everything was all tastefully a light shade of pink, Rhys would of prefered something darker, his skin is too pale for these light colors, but he’ll make due to sell it.

It was a Friday night, the group of his now glittered coworkers were ushered out from the makeup, they would go on for thirty minutes before Rhys’s set, then Nick gets to go on, they cycle through a few more group sets, Rhys goes on again near the end and call it a wrap for the night. The club he worked at was a super special type of niche strip clubs, technically it fell under the odd category of burlesque, pole dancing and strip club, mixed with the not so common theme of “gay bar” as well. It was called the, “Precious Pearl,” a lot of the dancers are handpicked, especially sense the club has built up a good reputation. There are some cities that are littered with gay bars, but there’s always one that is heightened above others, Precious Pearl was that bar. Sure you could go down the street and get a drink at the “Cock-a-doodle Bar,” maybe get laid or just relax with a  group of friends for a tick or two. But, if you wanted one of the best mixed drinks, a long line of glittery gay men performing the occasional acrobatic trick from the rafters or getting done up in full drag and singing a Cher song then you go to Precious Pearl.

Rhys’s own story as to he he ended up working here was off of a pure bet with his friend Fionna to see who can get a job the fastest. He had  _ “borrowed” _ Yvette’s pumps, went down to Precious Pearl’s “amateurs night”, within the hour he had the managers number and had an appointment for number training on Monday. Because he won the bet Fionna had to treat him to lunch for an entire week, those free lobsters and steak leftovers fed him for over a week, especially with his flash freezer.

Honestly it was not a bad job, it didn’t get in the way of his college classes, he was able to afford a nicer apartment and could continue his regular dental work once every six months. Life was peachy, speaking of peachy, Rhys was going to look like one in a couple of seconds as he was applying the glittery substance called “Froot Shimmer,” over his chest and carefully over his ass in the mirror.

Down the hall outside of the mixed makeup and green room, past the doorways and stairwell where the music blared the loudest for the public Jack sat at the bar waiting for his Manhattan as his gaze loomed over the stage a moment. The show was good, it was obvious to him that it was mainly a filler, background static for most people to ignore, although to Jack’s head they were alright performers, but he can tell this was performed one too many times. Which was fine, but not great, as someone who heavily funds and technically, on paper, owns the club, he had some opinions to share with the management.

Jack had a lot of activities and things to do, as a CEO of the nations top technology producing branch he had a lot of small local businesses and entertainment he helped buy out or fund, he didn’t do it often, but he did it when he had somewhat an interest in certain places. Maintaining a monopoly also meant showing up unannounced to these businesses and seeing how things were running. Most schmucks don’t even bother, but Jack was precise and a very in control man, he needs to make sure his investments are thriving, he was not a CEO for no reason after all.

Once his Manhattan was placed in front of him he nodded at the bartender and raised the glass to his lips. Of course it was busy, almost every day or the week the Precious Pearl was full of people. The little place was a mock burlesque strip joint when Jack had found it dying, when he bought it out he switched around management with one of the employees, who knew exactly what he wanted to do to make the club better. Within a few long months it had transformed and became a new bloodline for a lot of the lgbt community in the city, which was a big bonus, Jack was more of a progressive man and when progression earned so much money, what could be wrong with that?

The filler group finished their performance, the crowd of people cheered and the lights on the stage darkened. Jack was enjoying his Manhattan when the lights flash softly and slowly, pink and white stage lights played over the dark stage, curtains slowly pulling back as an announcer sounded from the speakers.   
“I hope everyone is having a grand time tonight, we got a special performance tonight, so won't you all put your hands together for Mister Reed Rhinestone!” at that the lights cut, and an electrical sound hummed in the air with humming. 

There was a sound of clacking, distinctively heels, they clacked loudly from behind the stage, the music picked up louder, humming sounding more coherent and then as the music cut into a classic sounding lyrics and beat a pink stage light landed on a man coming from the left side of the stage. He was dressed in a tuxedo, auburn hair slicked back, eyes sharp, everything looked well trimmed to him and in place, except a pair of 8 inch pink stilettos which seemed to make him intimidatingly tall. The heels clacked in tune with the beat, Jack was curious about the performance as the stage light followed the man on the dark obscured stage, there was a sharp glare on his face as he approached a man in a pair of dress pants, a muscle shirt and a sharp fedora. 

They moved in a back step sequence, the well dressed man in heels, in one swift yet calculated move snapped his leg straight up and kicked the mans hat off on beat, then had his leg grabbed by the now fedoraless man. The crowd screamed as they showed off the flexibility of his leg, stretching it and letting it rest on the guys shoulder. He grabbed the man, who Jack was assuming was Reed, and dragging him across the stage like that before the lights flooded in and the man tossed Reed to a couch. Reed’s tuxedo jacket came off as he got back up, on beat, glaring and man this kids acting was really good as the man turned Reed’s anger into a dance, stripping him in the process. That was when the crowd screeched louder when Reed’s pants got ripped off and the man crowded him to the couch. Under that tuxedo, Reed was in a floral set of light dazzling pink garter belt with ruffles, a pair of thin panties and matching nylons being held up by the garter belt. The performance was very berlesque like and Jack had an incredibly hard time keeping his eyes off of Reed, if that was even his name, especially his face and how pretty that anger and glare looked on him.

It was fascinating, acting or not, the performance drew the crowd into it’s storyline very clearly. At some point more men in muscle shirts and fedoras carried Reed away from the other man and pinned him against a wall, showing off his body as the other man ran backstage and Reed shrugged the other men off of him and shooed them off stage. From behind the couch he grabbed a silk robe, pulled it on and a bottle. Topping off the performance by popping it open, foam and fluid all on stage as he poured it on himself and sprayed the front row of people. His body was wet and honestly looked pretty downright desirable as he exited stage left, blowing a kiss and taking a drink from the bottle.

Sweeping backstage past the pink curtains, Rhy’s was toweling himself off the best he can, he was grateful that the bartenders refilled and corked the champagne bottle with club soda, that way the sugar was not making him sticky and the club didn't need to go bankrupt from buying campagne constantly. The front stage curtains closed and the stagehands quickly mopped up the fluid from his performance and moved the couch. Rhys made his way back towards the greenroom, catching Nick in his rainbow speedo and whipped cream cans, they high fived as they passed each other. Rhys had a couple of hours before the next performance, but walking out on the floor and greeting people was also apart of the job. He was already contemplating how many cosmos he could convince the bartender to make him.

Rhys touched up his makeup and glitter work in the green room, conversing lightly with his other coworkers, burning up time before he had to walk down onto the red checkered linoleum floors. He wished he could of changed the lingerie, or at least the coloration of it, he settled for wearing the lilac and red floral robe he wore on stage, still a little damp, but good.

The few perks about the job was that Rhys got to get free drinks, wore some cute outfits, despite the colors, and he gets to put his ballet and dance lessons he took in his youth to good use. Although he was sure Madam Bella would not appreciate how he used her teachings to get a job doing risque burlesque slash stripping with the occasional pole dancing. She was probably rolling around in her grave. Rhys clacked the baby pink stilettos onto the linoleum, greeted the usual loyal club goers that showed up almost every Friday or weekend to have a good time. He had a system to how he worked the floors, constant resting bitch face, that’s what people coined him for, or rather it’s what Reed would do. Rhys had fun seeing himself pretend to act like Reed more than himself when he works, it was easier and people were less likely to fuck with him.

Reed was confident, he had a resting bitch face, talked like he knew what he was saying, constantly strutting and never once fell in heels. Comparatively, Rhys was not so confident, only in his work and his basil plant, he was more expressive when he met people, a little passive, he would also like to think he was nice, but he can be a dick too at times. At least Rhys was good at acting, otherwise he would of been fired- or not even hired at all.

Rhys made his way to the bar slowly, one of the regular customers saved him a seat, Austin, he usually showed up because he liked the new performances and the ones Rhys put on. He sat down and waved the bartender over.   
“Raffi, please make me a cosmo, don’t use the cheap vodka either, I want to at least feel a second degree burn in my lungs,” Rhys said in his Reed way, which was low toned, monotonous and a little condescending. Raffi rolled his eyes, he knew how Rhys operated on the floor and stage, most of the staff do, his boss loves it, encourages most of the performers to do so when they work the floor.

“So let's see if I get the story right about this performance,” Austin said, Rhys drew his eye to him, while also keeping Raffi in his sights while he made him his drink.

“Ol’ 50’s style romantic cherry topped argument- you, the rich debutant husband comes home after hearing his husband was unfaithful while he was out at a charity ball,” Austin said, taking a drink from his glass. “Then during the argument, unfaithful husband takes on his high class husbands anger and tries to turns it into some sort of sexy thing, but your still mad so his buddies come in to save his ass, you shrug them off and get drunk.”

Raffi placed the cosmo in front of Rhys, he thanked him briefly, took a sip and sighed heavenly into it. Austin cleared his throat, looking at Rhys expectantly, right.

“Wrong,” Rhys said before taking another drink, Austin furrows his brows.

“The plot to that show was initially ‘Rich husband finds out his husband works with the mafia and attempts to murder him.”

Austin furrowed his brows, looking a little puzzled and bewildered, “that doesn’t make sense, why would he try to kill him over that?”

“Because, rich husbands family died by mafia affiliation- how dare his husband who knows how strongly rich husband feels about the mafia, go behind his back to do something so hair brained when they have the money.”

“Maybe it was for the thrill,” a man on the other side of Rhys said.

Rhys looked over at the man, he looked too business formal mashed with college phase, a graphic t-shirt was clearly under his nice suit and tie, the green collar really popped and clashed. His face was very… Handsome, sharp jaw line, a wicked looking mouth and heterochromic eyes, the coloration reminded Rhys of a pale dawn, green of the horizoned earth, and the streak of blue crying out above it. The man was drinking a manhattan, so Rhys can clearly tell what kind of man he was and was not sure if he liked it.

“Thrills can get you killed,” Rhys responded, lifting his cosmo up to his lips, “that's the lesson of that story.”

Rhys hated how mysterious and alluring that sounded coming from him, the man laughed, wholeheartedly, burst open like a seam, pearly white teeth and everything. For a moment Rhys briefly wondered how those teeth would feel on his arm, better not ask while he’s working.

“Ain’t that the truth there cupcake,” the man chortled, Rhyst shifted in his spot, looked back over at Austint, who seemed to be busy watching Nick use the whipped cream can as a big euphamisim for orgasming onto the audience. Literally.

“So is Reed your actual name? Or are you just not that creative?” the man asks, condescension dripping in his tone and Rhys felt an odd shift in him, it was probably the alcohol. 

“Depends on what the program say?” at that Rhyst grabbed one of the paper programs that Raffi kept on the bartop for customers and pressed it towards the man. In one gulp he finished his cosmo and left the bar with a swish and a sway, feeling really weird about that entire interaction.

 

* * *

 

The night goes on and Rhys is not surprised, but also a little nervous about the costume change he had to do. Reed would take this in stride, but Rhys was nervous, that being said they’ve practised and had him get used to the costume and routine a week beforehand, but sometimes he should just learn to say no. Otherwise he’ll end up with shibari bondage, which to be honest was only uncomfortable to him because he’ll be showing a crowd of people himself in bondage and he’s a little afraid he won't be able to own it or pull it off in the Reed way.

It didn’t matter, he had the thick dark blue bondage rope tied around his chest and down between his thighs, he had a tight pair of tiny boxers on under it, thank god, but the rope work framed his chest and crotch obscenely. It was more of something he’d rather be doing with someone intimately instead of showing it to the public, but he can't really go back now that the rope was on. Blue and black glitter was applied on his pectorals and shoulders, as well as his thighs too and sprayed down. Then he pulled on the dark jeans, thick sunglasses, white shirt and the leather jacket, with a pair of studded silver stilettos. He was given enough time for a once over before getting called back stage. This number was less burlesque style and acting and more dance and pole work, so he should do fine if he just does what he did best.

Out onto the stage, the stagehands ran across in the blue tinted lighting settling over the well worn wood of the stage with fog machines going. There was a ticking noise from the music and on the third tick Rhys’s leg popped out from behind the curtain, just like practiced.

He slammed his heel down on the floor, hard on beat, then gilded his foot back and dragged the tip of the shoe on the wood to the classic yet building music. Then when the sound picked up he stepped out from behind the curtain, body lax, but not too lax, each crossover step he made across stage swung his hips more exaggeratedly than usual to emphasise something confident, set in stone, something Reed.

At the end of the stage, off onto the catwalk they had the pole set up for him, he stomped to it, and with a snap of his leg and practiced muscle work and preciseness, he paused barelt a second to lift his leg all the way up to press the toe of his heel into the pole, in a stretch that drove the audience crazy. They really enjoyed his legs, he didn’t get the appeal, there were other features of himself to sexualize, honestly.

With a hop and a maneuver he had practiced too many times, his leg slid down and curled up on a high point of the pole, using his upper body strength he lifted himself, grappling the pole and tucked himself so his legs were gripping around the pole at a high point, displaying himself out to the people. Rhys adjusted his legs and slowly slid down in a circle, one hand gripping the pole, the other removing his glasses and tossing them to the audience, hear the cries of joy and hollering. With the hand on the pole he let his legs go and lifted himself up with the beat, displaying his body to the front of the stage, arms up above his head, both hands gripping the pole now, outstretching and his legs pulled, back neck exposed and back arched.

When he hit the ground on his knees, he slid down on the floor, popping his back up and then down with a snap, his stilettoed heels hopping up onto the ground as he swayed his hips up at the audience, slowly bringing himself back up onto his feet with such controlled form. He moved his hips in circular motions, removing his leather jacket and tossing it back behind him further down towards the curtains. Rhys brought his hands up through his hair, gripped the back of it, just like how he would imagine, and pulled hard, grinding his hips into the air and biting his lips. 

Then he backed himself up to the pole again, reaching back with both hands, gripping it and lifting himself up, lifting up and then sliding down to slam his stilettos to the ground, while gyrating his hips. He stuck his left leg out and let himself descend down to the ground, folding his right leg back and stretching his hands out above him, gripping the floor like he would a bed when getting intimate. Popped his back up and squirmed on the floor and the audience loved it, even when it was all done with practiced moves and a slight smile on his face. The smallest one he would let Reed show.

He’s snapping himself to sit up, posture poised as he slid on the ground, gripped the pole, spread his legs out to the audience and pulled himself back up and then, with fluidity and nerves he tore off his pants, almost every costume had buttons for fly away stripping like this. After the pants came the shirt and this was one of the loudest nights Rhys had worked considering how insane the people went to see him all down up in shibari. He circled around the pole, in nothing but the stilettos, boxers, glitter and rope, grind his hips and paused momentarily to look over his shoulder and pop his leg with with the beat before going back to his pole work.

The finishing move had him contorting around the pole in a slow decent the had him slid out on the ground, displayed in such a lewd way, he knew it was lewd too, he had practiced in the studio in front of the mirrors to land the landing without hurting his back, but also look dirty, like someone you’d want more than anything.

After the dance, Rhys was untied and helped the last two performances go off without a hitch. The crowd really got pumped up on Fridays, Rhys was ready to work the less busier crowd on Sunday, redoing that shibari performance the next two days will be less of an issue sense he just exposed himself already. It was 1 am and Rhys wanted really greasy food and to cuddle up in his bed, maybe ask Vaughn or Sasha if they wanted to catch dinner tomorrow if their still up.

Rhys had pulled on his normal clothes, body glitter still all over his hands and ass that got on his black joggers and the rest of his messy college kid clothes. As he was finishing up getting his things together, Mr. Henderson came into the green room.

“You all did great tonight guys, really good work on the routines- uh we had the owner of the club visiting, you know, the man who basically gives us all our paychecks. We’re having a staff meeting tomorrow afternoon two hours before opening to go over some changes we’re having done, he’ll be monitoring the club for the next month, so be on your best behaviour.”

Immediately after Henderson stopped talking the performers bombarded him with questions about changes and some of them not being able to make it. Rhys was… Honestly tired and his coworkers were blocking the exit by grouping around their boss. So Rhys turned out to the entrance to the halls that ran behind the stage, followed the glow tape behind the stage out to the front. The stage lighting was off, stagehands were cleaning up, one of the IT guys was getting the pole off the catwalk. Rhys carefully hopped off the stage, the emergency light and the main lights near the front were still on, he caught Raffi cleaning the counters. 

Rhys gave him a bright smile, “hey dude, think you can make me a drink?” he asked a little cheekily. Raffi groaned.  
“Rhys my feet hurt, I just cleaned the glasses and the- you know what fuck it, I’ll have one too,” Raffi finally caved, turning around to grab the glasses.

“Make that three,” Rhys turned and spotted the handsome man he had talked to earlier that night, he furrowed his brows at the man and watched as he took out a cigarette and lit it.

“Uh, sir, we’re closed and you can't smoke in here,” Rhys said as Raffi turned around, looked at the man, then gaped a little at Rhys.

The man took a puff from his cigarette and blew smoke out at Rhys, making his eyes water and waved the smoke away.

“I know sweetheart, don’t you worry your pretty head about it,” he chuckled.

Rhys gave a look at Raffi, they might want to get security,Rhys turned to signal one of the staff over when the man’s voice stopped him.

“You know you never asked me my name earlier,” he said, flicking his ash off onto the counter, Rhys felt threatened for some reason. “It’s Jack, Jack Lawrence, maybe if you checked your checks each week you’d recognize me.”  
Rhys felt a little taken aback by this, he looked at Raffi and then back at Jack. This was weird, this was waaay waaaaaay too weird. Then Rhys saw Henderson coming from the back room, he clapped a hand on Rhys’s shoulder.

“Oh Rhys, good, I see you’ve met Jack?” he asked with a small smile on his face.

The weight of reality hit Rhys like a ton of bricks, except it didn’t happen all at once, it was like a sudden drop before a drizzle and then a storm. The embarrassment hit him before the heat and color rose to his face.

“I uh, yeah,” Rhys uttered lamely, looking over to Raffi, who was now hiding the cocktail he was making. Henderson seemed to float his attention away to ask Raffi to make them all drinks. Rhys looked at Jack and understood now that this was the man who owned the club, most people would assume Henderson did, but all Rhys knew was that was not true. Jack gave him a toothy grin, smoke creeping out from his teeth, he looked like all shades of trouble and he  technically is the boss of his boss… Boss ²  .  Oh he needs a drink.


	2. Black Betty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caravan Palace or Ram Jam version of Black Betty, I listened to both on repeat for this chapter, it was a ride and a treat. Enter Vasquez, exit Vasquez, this is a fun chapter ;)

Rhys woke up an hour before noon and did chores. He kept his place tidy, fed his cat, LB, made lunch, responded to his texts, did yoga, finished up his homework and emailed his essays in before he forgot.  By the time he was done it was four forty five and he was bored, groceries were replenished on wednesday, he already ate so he can’t just go out. He had been doing a lot to keep his pesky mind off of the thought that he had snarked at the man who pays him.

It was hard to ignore, especially sense he vaguely thought the man was attractive… Yeah, vaguely. When the stress hit him, he decided to take a stress nap. Precious Pearl did not open until  nine, the staff meeting wasn’t until seven, so when his head hit the pillow Rhys went out like a light. He slept hard for those extra two hours he had, when he woke up to take a shower he wished he had actually done something productive, like call his mom or hang out with Vaughn or Sasha, Fionna was still out of town with Yvette so those two were his options until next week.

Maybe he should text vaughn for a bro night and tell him about the whole, “I accidentally snarked at my bosses boss,” thing. Rhys took a quick shower and gathered himself to leave, he scritched LB’s ears before leaving. His hair had dried and fluffed out a little by the time he had arrived at the club, he pulled a beanie onto cover the lack of product to tame his fluffed hair. Rhys walked into the club through the back door that was left unlocked for the employees, leaving the front door unlocked would cause more issues.

The main area of the club was transformed into a makeshift meeting setup, the tables were pushed together water bottles and papers scattered over the tables already and Jack was on the stage talking to the stagehands and the IT guys. Nick was already there and so was a decent amount of the performers. Henderson was on the stage with Jack, Rhsy decided to slide in with the other performers while those two weren't looking.

“I’m not late right?” he asked Nick who waved a hand carelessly at Rhys.

“Nah man, mr bossman and Henderson have been working on shit waaay before any of us got here,” Nick said and Rhys nodded, eyeing the papers on the table, not sure if he should take one to read or not. He decided against it, especially when Jack and Henderson were coming back to the table. Jack introduced himself to the table and asked Henderson if they were missing anyone.Henderson said there was only three people from the security and five from the performers, but two of them won't be making it anyways.

Jack looked down at his watch, “ well it’s already seven, so let's just start on the performers and go through security last sense we’re going to coordinate them with the performers more.”  
Jack seemed more professional now, like his personality from yesterday melted off and was replaced with this new mask. Henderson passed out the papers to the performers.

“These are the new guidelines for you guys, we switched performance planning and training with the director you guys have so your performances are less sloppy, instead of a week you have two weeks to get your routines down, everything needs to be tighter and it gives you all more time for coming up with different acts with the director, you group performers seem like you were going to fall asleep on the pole last night.”

Rhys tried to not snicker at that, for one that’d be mean to do and two… well the man had a point. The group performers rarely got to change up their routines.

“The more we are able to change things up where it’d been repetitive the more people will want to come in and watch the entire show and not just wait for Reedy here to do one show and walk out, the longer they stay the more people spend on drinks and the longer ticket submissions-”

Rhys nodded, listening and grabbing a pencil from his bag to make a few notes, his inner college note taking came out and he didn’t want to miss something. 

“Question, do you all choose costumes or what’s the deal with that?” jack asked, looking over Rhys and Nick.

“I usually make suggestions to the director and then the director goes off of those,” Henderson says. Jack points at Henderson and gives him a sharp look.

“You’re not allowed to do that anymore, tell me, which costume popped on Rhysie over there more, the light pink almost skin tone garterbelt combo, or the dark blue bondage he had on- trick question it was the rope, I want the performers and the director to make costuming decisions and I will be sending more funds to them on updating the costume wardrobe and the props.”

Rhys was grinning a little giddly, he watched Henderson get a little flustered at Jack telling him no, he was at least glad someone can spot when something wasn’t right with the colorations he had with his costumes. The rest of the meeting went like this, the other performers showed up, Jack handed out a questionnaire for the performers to fill out. The questions were about costumes, how many times they get new costumes, the green room/makeup space, how many times they practice routines a week and previous experience with acting, performing ect. Rhys did not have much to put down there besides his ballet and ballroom dance studio experience, but that was years ago.

Jack had the bulk of the performers clean out the costume wardrobe and go through what they wanted to toss, as Rhys was getting up to go do that, Jack stopped him and had him come over to him and Henderson.

“You’re the least qualified performer here did you know that?” Jack said without any hesitation, Henderson gaped at Jack’s words and Rhys let out a nervous chuckle.

“You’re not getting fired, I’m just curious, Henderson you hired Rhysie here, please explain to me.”

“Well yes, I hired him on spot, he signed up for our amateurs night almost a year ago and honestly I didn’t see anything wrong with doing so,” Henderson explained, crossing his arms.

Jack raised a brow, “really? Do you usually hire people from amateurs night, there could have be-”

“Actually,” Rhys interrupted cautiously, getting Jack’s fired up eyes on him, “I did that with the intentions of getting hired.”  
Henderson looked at Rhys, Jack’s look went from fired to curious and unreadable, waiting for Rhys to continue.

“Well I thought it was obvious, I mean I was looking for a job that didn’t really bother my school schedule and I came in wearing pumps…” 

Jack’s laughter bellowed in the club, loud and bright, Henderson was just sighing and shaking his head, the look on his face was one that was embarrassed that he hadn’t connected those dots.

“I like this kid, ambitious motherfucker, but I do want you to take pole classes like the other performers did, your work isn’t as tight as theirs,” Jack said with a wave of his hand and there was a little spark of protest in Rhys’s mouth. And for some reason he did not let that spark go.

“Uh- ok sir, I don’t really think that’s necessary,” Rhys managed to say.

“Its Jack, not sir and I don’t care what you think, if you want to work with your other coworkers on the pole it’s only fair you have the same training.”

“I am just as good as them.”  
Rhys really was not sure what made him want to say that, there was something that inside Jack that made him want to bite back, and it probably just lost him his job.

“Ok then show me,” Jack huffed, crossing his arms and giving Rhys a stern look, “if it’s not as fluid, paced or tight as your other buddies work then I’m picking out, singing you up and holding your hand like an annoying PTA mom through a six week long course of pole dancing lessons.”

Rhys bit his lip, dug his fingers into his palms, “fine-” Rhys paused to look over at the IT guy on the stage, “Marco bring down the poll on the center catwalk.”

He walked away from Henderson and Jack, stretching and doing quick warm ups while he waited for Marco and a stagehand set up the pole for him and make sure it was stable and clean. Rhys took off his shoes and went over to his bag to retrieve his platform pumps, they were his backup pair he always brought to work. Jack made a point to sit up in the front to get a good view of Rhys on the pole, Henderson was looking nervous in the back. Jack’s expression was unreadable and this might be the weirdest pole dance he’s about to do. Rhys hopped up on the catwalk, pulled the pumps on then stood up and looked over to Marco at the soundbooth.

“Play me River by Bishop,” he called to Marco, who nodded and gave Rhys a five second countdown on his hands. Rhsy took his jacket off and was glad he worse tight pants today and a belt. A wicked cold feeling shivered through him as he steadied himself behind the pole.

Rhsy swayed and when Marco hit one on his hand and grabbed the pole with both hands, he knew this song well, the beats, the way he wanted to hit his cues, it would be tiring and fast paced, but he wanted to put all hs cards down on the table. He gripped the pole and swung around to the front, hit the catwalk hard with his heels on the first beat, moving like a bullet. He did not want to focus his eyes on Jack, but that's where they went, right into those unreadable eyes as Rhys rolled his hips and reached back to grab the pole, vaulting himself up and quickly wrapped his legs around the pole tightly, securely, just like Nick had showed him, right on the beat.

He moved around in a circle let himself slide down behind the pole, hitting the ground with his legs spread out, flicking his long legs out with the next beat and then swinging them around to grab the pole and spin him low, yet gracefully propelled, hanging off the pole and displaying his front, shirt riding up to expose his abdomen. Rhsy snapped his back up and grasped the pole dramatically on the next beat, holding himself up and unwrapping his legs so he and flick them up on the next beat, fluttering them down. He placed his pumps on the pole and arched his back up, quickly, keeping on beat and time as he held himself upside down with his feet hitting the pole on beat. 

Sliding down slowly, keeping that form as tight as he has ever been in his life, then he dropped himself down, in front of the pole, in front of Jack, legs spread. With the roll of the three quick beats, Rhsy placed one hand on his inner thigh, the other hand placed on the lonely thigh and he pushed his thighs down, arching his back in the process and ground up in the air. Grasping the pole behind him he lifted back up onto the pole and rotated through poses to the beat perfectly, his muscles were on fire but he did not care. 

He slid down behind the pole to the chorus playing, and stomped his feet down as Bishop’s voice demanded silence and pleasure from the speakers, Rhys was glad to comply, closing his eyes and arching his back to slow grind into the pole before swaying his hips and going into a crouch. 

Rhys went like this for the entire song, until it ended, he kept himself composed, poised and as tight as he can be. The song ended on Rhys dropping to the ground on his heels and when he was done he can hear silence, only his heartbeat and his sweat rolling down his forehead. Then there was a hollar and over by the entrance to the back was Nick and the other performers, loudly and lewdly supporting Rhys’s performance. He laughed, nerves shaken out with his breath, he forgot for a moment that Jack was still there. Jack stood up abruptly, catching Rhys’s eye, and he waited his critique.

“That was good, better than last night, but I’m still making you take lessons kiddo, I’ll make it three weeks instead,” Jack turned away from Rhys and gestured Henderson towards him as they disappear into the back.

Rhys cursed and collapsed on the catwalk and stared up at the rafters.

 

* * *

 

Jack had left half an hour later after the staff meeting, Rhys was a little fumed over the experience thing and having to take classes, but he supposed if he was going to keep this job he might as well. With how Jack was getting a grip on the club with the new changes in rules and regulations Rhys can’t really complain. Not all of the new rules were bad, one of the new ones was security stationed near the back that lead to the dressing rooms and green room as well as escorting the performers to their bus stations, cars or other mode of transportation.

Rhys liked that new regulation, there were a few cases of stalking before and one time someone did get into the dressing rooms, Rhys wondered why Jack let Henderson keep his job sense he is as responsible for the club, managing it was his job, but then again that was jack’s business. 

After a perfect repeat performance of last night with the burlesque number and the shibari pole dance, Rhys felt dead tired. The one good thing about costume changes was Rhys got to wear the dark pink garterbelt and nylons with a darker stiletto too. Rhys thought he looked so good he took a full body mirror pictures and maybe a few dirty ones when people weren’t looking. Darker colors complimented him so much better.

Rhys was heading out when Nick hollered at him from the bar, Raffi and one of the other bartenders were there as well as some of the other performers.

“We’re having strawberry pom mojitos, come have one!”

Shrugging, Rhys wandered over and sat down at the end of the bar with Nick, the other bartender poured Rhys a glass with the excess mojito and placed it in front of him. Rhys took a drink, it was so good, he almost drank it all in one go.

“So like, Rhys buddy,” Nick started in his loud friendly way, “got any good dick recently?”

One of the performers next to Nick snorted and began to hack, Nick paid no attention to it, as if what he said with his mouth wasn’t terrible or startling. Rhys watched a moment as one of the other performers patted the hacking one’s back, Rhys really needs to remember names better.

“Uh not really, kinda been focused on midterms and now I gotta take pole dancing classes for the next three weeks, so I doubt I have time for sex,” Rhys replied, face a little flushed, he blamed it on the drink he only had one sip of and drank it some more. He missed having sex a little, but not just a one night stand, a full out good fuck that will be there in the morning and be physically intimate relationship or not. Either that or he really misses his ex Alex, he had an amazing mouth and fucked Rhys constantly, besides that there really wasn’t much going on with their relationship so they both had to stop. That was three months ago. Fuck.

“Maaan you need to get laid, I know a guy that bartends down the street, total twink with a great ass, cute face,” Nick said bluntly, like he was ready to take Rhys there to get him fucked now.

Rhys scrunched up his nose and shook his head, “incase you can’t tell Nick, I am a twink.”

Nick’s eyes widened, “shiiit you’re right, I’m so used to your lil fun act when you pretend to be Reed, you seem like less of a twink when you’re him, but you’re just all cute n blushy.”

Rhys laughed awkwardly and finished the drink in that instant, “well I gotta go, my cat probably misses me, see ya.”

As Rhys walked out by the multiple shouted and waved goodbyes from his coworkers, one of the security guards asked Rhys is he needed escorting, to which he declined firmly. Rhys was not really into being the escorted type, or rather he never felt the desire for it. His apartment was close to campus, but so was the club, so he took to late night strolls home. Eventually Rhys arrives home, LB meowing loudly at his heels, he filled her water bowl and food before crashing on the bed.

 

* * *

 

 

Sundays was special. Instead of the shibari performance, Rhys got to do one of the most requested performances, via audience choice and by audience choice he means a bunch of gay jokes and five people asking for “Black Betty.” Rhys got called into work early because of this, having to cut his lunch with Vaughn and Sasha early and running to the club.

By the time he got there half the stagehands and IT was setting up the stage, because when they do the Black Betty performance it is a force that affects the entire ecosystem of the club. The best way to explain the performance is it’s a fight, a stupid fight burlesque style- somehow- with a combo pole dance sequence and not to mention Rhys has to come in from the rafters. It is one of the more high acrobatic performances. Which means Rhys has to do a run through to make sure the harnesses up in the rafters work, so he doesn’t die and be able to unclip the harness, which means the director is coming.

Vasquez… was not Rhys’s favorite person in the world, to put it lightly. He was already there too, hair slicked back, chomping on a brownie, a pretentious looking coffee cup in his other hand and yelling for Rhys. Like as if doing that would make him suddenly appear... 

“Good, there you are, get your ass up to the rafters, we need to do th-”

“The harness tests, got it,” Rhys cut him off with a glare, running backstage to access the stairs up to the rafters. When Nick finally showed up Rhys had finished his harness tests and went through the performance on a dry run without him. Somehow he was able to manage to text Vaughn about Vasquez and the performance tonight, before getting his ass slapped in the non athletic sportsman way by Vasquez.

“Run through again, you’re too stiff,” he told Rhys, turning his back to him to take a phone call. Rhys mockingly gagged at him behind his back, but did it anyways. Things were getting somewhere an hour before opening when Jack showed up out of the blue, sunglasses on and a coffee cup in his hand, what was with the coffee cups. Vasquez, saw Jack and immediately went to him.

“Excuse me sir, but you’re not allowed to be here, the club isn't opened yet,” Vasquez snapped at Jack.

There are brief moments in human history where oxygen is hard to pump in and out of the human body. That was what was happening to every staff member in the room, except for Vasquez himself. Jack looked at Vasquez, lowering his shades, an amused smile on his lips.

“I’m not allowed to be here?” he asks, sizing up Vasquez.

“Yes sir, we’re very busy.”

There was a pause.

“Ok.”

_ What. _

Jack turned on his heel and walked right out of the club, everyone was staring at Vasquez in a mix of horror and disbelief… Did no one tell him… He is the director for the performances at the club, but he rarely shows up, there’s no way he could know about Jack.

Then, like an angel ascending upon earth to serve the lord's biggest middle finger to humankind, the doors slams open and Jack waltzes in.

“Yes it’s me, you know, Jack Lawrence, the man that owns this club and controls everyone's paychecks and lives in this gay masterpiece I call a  good time!”

Jack yells this from the top of his lungs, so boisterously and proud that Rhys is holding back from bursting into laughter, because he wants to see what kind of backlash Vasquez gets. Vasquez himself, is shocked, probably because a strange man he’s never met just shouted that he controls his money and life.

“E-excuse me…?”

“What do I gotta do around here, plaster my face on the walls with posters that say “Jack Owns This Place” or some bullshit like that eh?” Jack punches Vasquez in the shoulder in a weirdly aggressive friendly manner and laughs. Rhys brings his hand to his mouth, he bites his thumb because he is sure if he doesn’t he’ll laugh until he pukes.

Vasquez looks back at everyone in the room, taking in their looks of amusement at this point as a definite “Yes this man owns this club”.

Vasquez turns back to Jack and starts apologizing like it is no tomorrow, to which Jack seems to waze off and not really give two shits about, instead he brushes Vasquez off and goes up front to the stage.

“So can someone competent tell me what all the commotion is?” Jack asked, pulling his glasses up to his hairline and taking a drink from his coffee cup.

“We got requested to do the Black Betty tonight, it's a pretty little number, but we need to prep,” Rhys explained, seeing the way Jack’s eyebrow rose up quizzically before his eyes darted at the stage.

“So is it a southern style little hodunk thing that drives the people wild?” Jack snickered.

“It’s like a mixed acrobatic, ya know, burlesque and pole dance. Rhys and I have done it, I dunno, only two other times before, but the story pretty much has Rhys and I here fighting and getting pretty dirty if ya know what I mean,” Nick explained in his rough patch way of explaining. 

Jack nodded, “sounds fun, mind doing a run through so I can see what the big fuss is about?”

Rhys sighed and turned on his heel to the backstage, making his way back up the stairs to the rafters and catwalks. Nick was telling Rhys to be sweet on him, to which he rolled his eyes, for some reason he was super irritated.

“I’m starting this time- Marco!” Rhys said briefly to Nick after his harness was in and then looked down below towards Marco who gave him a five fingered countdown.

“You know I bet if you worked your ass too hard our lil wolf of wall street down there might wanna fuck you,” Nick muttered to Rhys. Rhys gave him a quizzical look, but did not have time to think too deeply on it as the music echoed on, Nick threw his head back and let out a chorus of loud yelps and yips.

Rhys laughed and took a jump off the catwalk, feeling the harness give a little like it was supposed to. There was a platform that hung above the stage, Rhys landed on it, crouched and poised, Nick followed and they went through the performance, grappling for a fake gun and Rhys pretending he had the whip he had only ever used for performances itself. The routine was rowdy, Rhys was not even sure it still applied to burlesque standards, but then again when it came to the Precious Pearl anything goes.

When they had finished a nearly perfect run through Jack clapped and cheered, Vasquez, also clapped like a little minion behind Jack.

“Rhys next time Nick pulls your hair like that you gotta actually pretend you’ve gotten fucked before,” Vasquez said, moving a pen behind his hair, “I mean jesus Rhys at least pretend you have balls and maybe the performance wont be so lackluster.”

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, if it was not for the fact that he had to play wrestle with Nick and somehow manage an almost in sync pole with with him, while not breaking or spraining his ankle he would have the breath to bitch. But Rhys also knew Vasquez had a stronger say in keeping Rhys on as a performer than Henderson, ultimately if Rhys didn’t mind himself he could get fired for mouthing off too much. He’s seen it happen to a could of solo performers with Vasquez before. He said nothing back and checked the time, opening is in half an hour and the staff were preparing.

“Lets go get in costume for the first set, and deal with this monster dude,” Nick said, raising his fist up to Rhys who bumped it against his own.

“Sure thing bro.”

 

* * *

 

Jack sat in a booth that was closer to the stage than he would like, but after the usual weekends set performanced form Nick and Rhys had gone through without a hitch he wanted to be close enough to watch this coveted Black Betty. The lights dimmed, nearly black, someone slipped into the booth with Jack, by the smell it was the sleavy stupid director-Vasquez. Jack didn’t like the guy, he rubbed him the wrong way and treated the performers and staff like dirty dishwater he had to bathe in, not to mention the dude was a clear misogynist. 

He also may of heard the director talking to some of the staff and performers about Rhys getting worse at landing his ques on stage. Jack has seen how Rhys has been performing on Friday and Saturday and he had hit all the ques and choreography on point today as he did on the other days. So it became clear to Jack that Vasquez had it out for one of the clubs top solo performers.

“Let’s see if he can stick this,” Vasquez mutters next to Jack, all too friendly and familiar for his liking with this guy.

The lights flickered on, the stage was set the same as it had when the stagehands had set it up, cutouts of cactuses, stars and tumbleweeds on the stage, floating mid stage was the platform he had seen Rhysa nd Nick practice their mix of acrobatic and choreographed fight scenes up there. A stage light moved center stage and the mc’s voice rang through the speakers.

“ It is my honor to announce by request from the audience yourselves, Reed Rhinestone and Gregg Gracious performing the Precious Pearls most rugged experience, Black betty.”

The spotlight drew up on the wall and carried the eye to the catwalk, where Rhys stood, and man was he a sight. He was a dream in black, black suede stilettos, tight charcoal chaps that hugged his legs, a midnight blue undershirt tucked into his pants, a long matte black trenchcoat and on top of his head a pure black suede stetson. The only bit of bright color was a teal bolo tie around his neck and the rope that garnished the statson, Rhys shifted his arm back, revealing a tight cord black whip, Jack couldn’t tell if it was real or not from here, it was probably fake. 

Rhys walked over the catwalk and placed his hands on the railings where the catwalk had a gap open and sneaking up behind him was Nick, in his own cuter and cheekier cowboy attire, he shoved Rhys off of the catwalk, yipping excitedly. Rhys landed on the platform, crouched low, heel jutted out and showing off his legs. The music picked up as Nick took out a fake gun and pretended to fire at Rhys, who dodged the pretend bullets. Nick jumped off of the catwalk, the audience gasping, he landed next to Rhys and swung up at him with practiced fists. Rhys dodged and with the use of the harness he was able to jump over Nick and land behind him, taking out the whip and swinging it through the air, a cracking sound being heard over the music.

Nick took out his gun and Rhys cracked his whip at him, the gun falling down below onto the stage. He looked between the gun and Rhys, who grinned at Nick and cracked the whip around, making a come hither gesture with his free hand. The two grappeled and did tricks and flips over another with the use of the harnesses and pulley system the stage had keeping the two performers able to so such feats.

At some point Nick grabbed Rhys by the collar and threw him off of the plattform to the ground on the stage, jumping off of the platform after Rhys to pin him on the ground Nick ground his hips down towards Rhys, who arched his back. Rhys took a tick to knee Nick in the stomach and roll onto his stomach to crawl out from under him. He climbed onto his fours before Nick came back, grabbing his hair and snapping Rhys’s head back, grinding into him from behind, pelvis barely touching Rhys’s ass. Jack watched as Rhys’s mouth flew open, feigning a hiss and biting his lip while his fingers clawed at the stage. There was a twitch inside of Jack, he was not sure what it was, but it came back when he watched Rhys’s leg bend up and grip onto Nick’s midsection to flip him over and pin Nick to the ground with his thighs resting between his head.

Nick clicked his tongue at Rhys loudly and Rhys punched him in the face, and wow the stage fighting they choreographed was really realistic. Jack could swear there was blood on Rhys’s hand, turns out he was right, but none of the stagehands went to help, so he was sure it was a part of the act. Rhys got off of Nick, moving his hands up his face in this sultry way that was so captivating to Jack, especially when the blood, assumedly fake, smeared over his face in a beautiful grotesque image. It was really something that mad a part of him burn.

“Tch, he’s missing his ques, you’d think with how he got around Rhys would be able to look like convincingly decent bloody sex fiend of the west,” Vasquez groaned next to Jack.

And he had to open his mouth and ruin the show for him, Jack felt his blood boil and before he knew it, he had snapped his attention away from Rhys to glare at Vasquez.

“You’re fired,” he growled. 

Vasquez snapped his eyes away from the stage to Jack, blinking furiously before he had realized what Jack had said to him.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you’re a terrible director to the performers here and I don’t want you anywhere near my club or any of my establishments,” Jack said firmly.

“B-but I’ve been directing the performances her for years sir-”  
“Yes and I can find a director actually worth the hassle, now get out of my face before I remove you myself.”

That was what it took for Vasquez to huff and leave Jack alone in his booth. Jack shook his head and rolled it back a few times before looking over to the stage. He had missed the second to last half, now Rhys and Nick were wearing nothing but their chaps and stetsons, working the pole in sync to the audience, everything was loud and crazy, for a moment Jack felt his brief rare moment of serenity.

 

* * *

 

After the Black Betty the club had ushered out the club goers and set up celebratory champagne and drinks for the performers and stagehands. Rhys felt so much better after the performance, it really got him in a good place to channel out the anger he had today. There was fake blood still on his face, one of the group performers said it was hot, so Rhys kept it.

Henderson was raising a glass with them, the last time they had a successful Black Betty performance was four months back, and Rhys knew that one well too. That one had ended with someone in the crowd getting too excited and throwing their glass on the floor.

Rhys held a cocktail glass with the bubbling liquid in it, the performers clinked glasses together along with the other staff, loudly cheering and laughing. He took a sip and enjoyed the flavor and bubbles of the drink dance on his tongue. From the corner of his eye, Rhys spotted Henderson looking around, before prompting himself.

“Has anyone seen director Vasquez?” he asked, eyes looking around the club.

Rhys sweeped his eyes around with everyone else, there were echos of “no’s” and “nah’s”. 

“He’s not here, I gave him the boot,” Jacks voice announced loudly, the man himself walking past the group of celebrating staff. 

The performers were quiet, Rhys exchanged a look between Nick and him, Vasquez was fired. Rhys was not sure how he was supposed to absorb this information, but without even realizing it, a tightly wound part of himself relaxed. Relief, he was relieved, he shouldn’t feel good about anyone losing their job, but Vasquez…

Henderson was trying not to swallow his tongue, Jack grinned, he was very pleased at this decision to fire Vasquez. But now it looked like Henderson was having a nervous breakdown right in front of him. He was well aware of the possible repercussions of this decision, but he was too confident in the next step he was going to take to make this club better.

“Ah ah, before you say anything I already have a new director in mind for the club, she’s one hell of a sadist, but at least she doesn’t wear a tupe and actually knows how to instruct the performers,” Jack said, nodding his head over to the group of performers, sliding his eyes over them. His landed on Rhys, standing there, the fake red smears of blood on his face, in a black robe and still in his heels. Jack crooked a finger at Rhys.

“C’mon cupcake,” Jack snapped his fingers at Rhys, getting more of his attention, “we got a few things to go over.

Jack turned on his heel, hearing the clacking of the stilettos on the linoleum hurry to catch up with him as Jack lead them back towards Henderson’s office. In there Jack took out the paperwork over the pole dancing lessons rubric and waver and tossed it at Rhys. 

“Read over this and sign it, the studio I signed you up for does night classes. Honestly I don't care how you schedule it as long as you complete the course and the instructor tells me you’re on par with everyone else,” Jack drolled out, taking out a cigarette and lighter from his pockets.

Rhys read through the papers and looked up at Jack, “how much is this class going to cost me?”

Jack laughed, “not a single dime princess,” he took a drag from his freshly lit cigarette, “ the owner and instructor of the place is already going to get a lot more money to do a little something else for me, your fee is wavered.”

“Oh…”

Rhys was not sure what to say to that, so he grabbed a pen from Henderson’s desk and finished filling out the paperwork and tucked the rubric under his arm for later. Jack was on his phone, typing, “leave the papers on the desk,” was what Rhys got from the man before he left to go rejoin the small celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya guys, leave some love in the comment section, I wanna hear your thoughts on this chapter, or for some of you to scream at me about this au, all is good!
> 
> Tumblr: @Euphoriawriter


	3. Primadonna Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratings get changed in this chapter ;)

The best thing about college was free coffee in the social sciences buildings on Mondays and the hot and not so irritating straight guys in Rhys’s programming classes that he had to deal with for most of his robotics and computer programing major. There was a triad of certain people in each class, one that he had a fancy for was Chad, he was super well built, dark skin and a jawline for days. He’d imagine Chad when he looked into his free coffee and remembered how he helped him with the coding his second year into his programming classes. 

Rhys had a long weekend from dealing with Jack and all of the hoops he had to jump through, thankfully not literally, now he had his Monday, Wednesday and part of his Fridays dominated by the lessons at the studio Jack had him sign up for. It was not like it was super far, the little studio was called “Gunpowder” which Rhys thought was honestly a weird name for a dance studio, but if it was for pole dancing lessons it made sense. He had a couple of hours after class before the studio lessons, then after he had to go do homework and blah blah  _ blah _ .

Thinking about squeezing in time for a someone to be fucking on the side or taking time to date always appeared super impossible at this point. Maintaining anything non platonic might get in the way with his job, even though for the most point his performances are purely burlesque it was also purely working on a pole and getting stripped for a crowd. There was a surprising amount of entitled people that did not enjoy that in a partner. For the most part Rhys’s friends were chill as they can be with his job, taking jabs about him being tired from working a pole all night. When other students or people asked him what his job was he would simply say he worked at a club and flex. It was a vague answer that had people wondering if he was a bouncer or just didn’t have a job. 

When it hit five, Rhys was at the studio, signed in at the front desk for the lessons and hung up his coat. The rubric he had taken told him to bring heels and to wear something tight and athletic, so Rhys of course had brought his basic black stilettos and worn tight athletic shorts and a muscle shirt in muted colors. He had followed a couple of girls that were also in his class into the studio room, and wow the classroom was dominated by women. It only made him uncomfortable in the way of “wow I’ll draw a lot of attention,” sort of way than in the other sexist undertones most men would think. Maybe it’d be best to pretend to be Reed Rhinestone, but maybe he shouldn’t.

The class was small, there were thirteen poles, a wall that was entirely mirror, a row of benches on a wall towards the back and a storage closet next to a shelf with a system that was hooked up to the speakers on the walls. Rhys had found himself at one of the poles in the middle near the end of the line, doing stretches and at some point he found himself testing the pole’s durability and yep that was going to definitely stay in place. Once the room seemed filled with most of the class and Rhys had a chatty girl talking to him the door opened and Rhys spotted the most confident woman he has ever seen and she carried the smell of lilac and whiskey with her. She had went over to the closet and shoved her leather jacket inside along with her shoes, taking out a pair of clear purple pumps.

She was half way putting the shoes on when she spoke, “ok baby girls, glad to see y’all are here on time, anyone else who is late today just got kicked from my program, I don’t tolerate mess punctuality.”

As she said this she finished clasping on her last shoe and stood up tall, like a snake in the grass and side eye’d over everyone with a dead serious expression and a playful lip.   
“Now don’t make those faces, we got a really good sexy group here, plenty of breathing room,” she moved around to the front where the thirteenth pole was placed center up front.

“I’m Nisha Kadam, this is my studio and my class so do as I say and we won't have any problems,” she giggled and looked over the class. Her eyes were an amber sunset, but sharp and piercing, they landed on Rhys with a malabe expression before flicking away from him.

“Now, how many of you have worked on a pole before? Don’t be shy, raise your hands, we’re going to get very familiar with the ones in this room after all, no time for blushing brides.”

There were five of the seven people in the class that rose their hands, Rhys included, Nisha let out a low whistle and eye’d Rhys a second.

“Well whatever reason you’re here for we’re going to get into the basics, arm lifts, sit ups, climbs, everything you do in here will be in heels,” she took a moment to clack hers on the floor, grabbing her own pole, “dancing includes working with these clacky motherfuckers, but man does it look good.”

The class laughed quietly at that, “I’m here to make sure you all look good, now for those of you that don’t work the pole professionally and think this is a cute fun way to work out you might wanna leave sweethearts, because here, we get down and we get dirty, there’s no shame in it either! So I’m going to put on some music and I want y’all to do these stretches and warmups.”

 

* * *

 

Nisha’s class almost had Rhys falling asleep half way through, he knew the basics were for his own good and all, but he was more up to speed than most of the girls in his class. He almost wants to see if there was a more advanced class for him to take, but the fuss might not be worth it. Nisha had been a good teacher for the girls not used to the pole and gave spotters to some of the already seasoned part of the class when she had showed some basic lifts and poses to hold and practice with.

Just six weeks of it and Rhys would be done, if only he can handle whatever Jack threw next at his head. Honestly Rhys wouldn’t be surprised if Jack threw a table at his head and he would handle it with such patience and grace just so he can keep his job.

As Rhys was getting ready to take his heels off, a pair of clear purple ones stopped in front of him and he stopped to look up at Nisha. She towered over him in his crouched position, hip jutted out and a smirk on her face.

“You’re the pretty young thing from the club right? Perky Pepper, Persimmon Pelicans- Precious Pearl, right?” she asked and as Rhys went to reply while continuing to remove his heels she placed the toe of her heel on his thigh. “Leave em on a sec sweetie.”

Rhys stopped and decided to just stand up, he was taller than the woman, even when they were both in heels. “Yeah I perform at Precious Pearl on the weekends,” he responded simply, rolling his shoulders back.

Nisha nodded and turned on her heel and walked all the way to the thirteenth pole she was demonstrating on earlier. With muscles moving fluidly with grace of a feline, she effortlessly climbed up and did slow descending spirals on the pole.

“Your talents there, got the basics down, but you lack the form and practice Legs,” she said, her heels hitting the floorboards, she let herself twist around a few times. “Oh and the display, you look constipated when you work a pole honey.”

“I uh, it’s kinda part of the act, my character has a cold mean exterior thing going,” Rhys tried to defend himself lightly, to which he earned Nisha’s laughter and she paused on her pole.

“Oh Legs, you are gonna learn so much from me, I like you, but you should try dropping that look, or try a new one. It’s not for you, or rather it’s like watching a kid try on daddys big boys clothes.”

Rhys felt his face grow hot, he was not sure if insulted was the right term for this or flustered. It slowly dawned on him that this was probably why Nisha thought the act he put on was not really helping his pole dancing much, even he can see how red his face got. Nisha pulled herself to Rhys and grabbed his chin.

“You got a nice face, soft, palpable and doughy,” she clicked her tongue and laughed, “even though you have some sharp cheekbones too, I see the appeal.”

Rhys twitched slightly, he tried to stay still under her scrutiny, he was good at taking a lot, but soon Nisha backed off.

“I want you to work the pole, I want to drill you on a few forms and have you adjust the way you do so, then on wednesday I want you to stay after to let me drill you more, c’mon Legs.”

Rhys held back half of an eye roll and grabbed the pole, getting himself up it easily and doing a few poses.

“There you go, move your leg, man I’m so excited, I get to train the mouthy boy that told good old Handsome Jack he was wrong.”

  
  


* * *

 

Nisha was an amazing teacher, Rhys’s body ached in certain places from straight, but he had no qualms on doing whatever Nisha said. She was an amazing woman, she would have Rhys run through drills after class and ask him personal questions. (  _ “When was the last time you’ve had your balls waxed kid?” “Do you think you’d look better with a cowboy hat on?” “Have you orgasmed so hard you reconsidered your faith in god?” _ ) 

Rhys, for whatever weird reason, grew a certain attraction to her quickly, by friday on his first week he’d taken to enjoying his nickname she gave him, even though “Legs” was super uncreative and simple. Maybe it was how her purple lipstick curled over her lips when she smiled, her gun shaped flask she’d drink from during the after class lessons, Rhys was not completely sure.

The weekend he worked at the Precious Pearl was quick, dirty and hard, it went by like a sixth shot of vodka. Jack didn’t show up much that weekend, when he did it was before opening to go over super technical details with Henderson over remodeling certain areas. Rhys pretended not to notice the man that much, he was purely business and focused on the things he was going to change in the club. Rhys was just a work in progress, maybe he wanted the attention? He was not sure.

It was the start of the second week on Monday when Rhys realized that Nisha was flirting with him, which he was pretty sure he was not assuming because he had at least asked Vaughn and Yvette about it that night at dinner and they had to confirm with him that yes, his pole dancing teacher was flirting with him.

Well.

On wednesday after practice Nisha had Rhys doing drill lifts and swings on the pole, he had caught her looking a little irritated as she stepped out of the studio to take a call. Rhys was not sure what was happening, Beyonce was blaring from the speakers and Rhys watched himself slowly descend down from the mirror. A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time crept into his bones, his face softened more out of the look he usually had on. His heel hit the ground , the other was flamingoed up on his thigh, he let it drop a foot or so in front of him, snapping down to bed and sway his hips against the pole. He slowly rose back up, his hands traling up his leg and when he was up he let himself slide back down onto the ground, grabbing the pole, a hot breath of air escaped his lips. Rhys can see his eyes were dilated as he arched up and shimmied down, spreading his legs as he hit the ground. He felt errotic and it was a dangerous feeling.

He heard Nisha’s heels reenter the room, his eyes met hers in the mirror, she chuckled at him. Rhys got back up on my feet, Nisha suddenly was very much in Rhys’s personal space, hands on her hips.

“I thought I told you to do those drills Legs,” she accused playfully, Rhys was slowly backing up.

“I uh, yeah, hold on-”

“You know that means I have to punish you baby boy,” as Nisha said this Rhys realised his back had hit the mirror and Nisha grasped his chin. “That means we’re going to have a fun time getting to know each other physically.”

Well.

So one thing lead to another, Rhys may or may not of felt a mixture of fear and arousal as Nisha told him to hit the ground. He hit the floor so hard his knees hurt as Nisha unzipped her shorts and pulled off her underwear. Rhys didn’t need to be told what to do as he eagerly slid his mouth against Nisha’s folds and tasted her on his tongue.

Eating her out had lead to Nisha yanking so hard on Rhys’s hair that he was sure he’d get scalp trauma when she came. Then Rhys experienced a new kink as he felt Nisha push him back, hands catching himself from falling on his back and then he felt her heel on his crotch and for some reason the angle, the look and the feeling were all sorts of little bells saying “yes” in his head. Nisha talked dirty to Rhys as she rubbed on his erection through his tight fabric before she got hasty and yanked his clothes off and rode him on the floor of her dance studio. It was so good, Rhys hadn’t been with someone, let alone a woman in such a long long time.

And Nisha delivered, hard and dirty, she left claw marks on him as well as purple stained hickies and long lavish kisses that were sweet like arsenic. When he had came inside her he couldn’t move for a while, soaking in the feeling before Nisha climbed off of him and offered Rhys a drink at the bar down the block.

It was an amazing week to say the least, having someone to sleep with again and Nisha had amazing muscles. He liked watching them work on the pole and over him when later that night she pushed him to the bathroom and blew him. It was crazy, she was crazy, but it was so easy to get caught up in Nisha Kadam, the woman was amazing. 

Rhys woke up the next morning with more hickies and bruises than where he had expected them to be and groaned. It was also the same day the performers were meeting at the club to meet the new director and everything. So Rhys showered, carefully covered up the marks on his neck and collarbones, went to class and headed over to Precious Pearl.

Inside all of the performers from the weekday to the night performers were on the stage stretching. Rhys was only five minutes before the meeting, he joined Nick up on the stage and dropped into a stretch, feeling himself more relaxed.

Nick whistled at him, looking over at Rhys as he went into a cobra position, “wow RHys you’re glowin today, get lucky?”

Rhys felt his face grow warm, but his lips twitched to a small smile, “you could say that I suppose,” he said nonchalantly. 

“You _DOG_ ,” Nick exclaimed loudly, “tell me the deets, was he good, how hard did you cum? Did you know the harder you cum the further you shoot your babby batter.”

Rhys felt an involuntary shudder of pure horrid reaction to the term “ _ baby batter _ ” being used in a conversation like this.

“That’s uh, fascinating Nick,” Rhys said, trying to be polite, “but to be honest half of my skin is covered in makeup right now and I’ll be glad to tell you about it later.”

They went through with stretching on the stage, not so sure when their new trainer would have them all be doing, but soon enough Jack showed up with someone in a long coat and a mauve stetson hat on.

“Alright dancing minions,” Jack said, dragging a chair up to the front stage, “your new director is going to be kicking your asses to the routines she comes up with.”

The figure with the hat grabbed the chair from Jack, who looked offended and with a fluid motion she pulled it up and used the chair to step up onto the stage, coat coming off and flinging it at Jack.

“Thanks for that money bags, but I got it from here, my names Nisha Kadam, I’m going to be the new big bad sheriff in town.”

Rhys felt his mouth grow dry within a millisecond, fuck. 

These awkward coincidences need to stop.

Nisha separated the week day performers from the weekend performers and then separated those groups down to solo performers and the groups. Nick and Rhys worked on their routines and talked while Nisha focused on the group performers. Rhys was nervous, for many reasons, one big one was that he was sleeping with the new director and his pole dance instructor, the latter he was not that worried about. I mean if she was going to be an instructor at the six week pole dance class he had to take and he was sleeping with her that would be fine, the classes aren’t long term like this job is for Rhys. So how can he set boundaries for Nisha that isn’t going to result in another Vasquez?

He shuddered, don’t think about Vasquez, he’s fired and gone, Nisha was a step up. Rhys caught how Nisha was showing one of the boys from the week day group performances how to move his hips into a bend and grab move and he got a little too entranced by Nisha’s high riding jean shorts.

Nick snorted at him, Rhys was a little caught off guard by his eyes and his eyebrows wiggling at Rhys. Dammit, he was a moron, now that Nick saw him ogling Nisha it wouldn’t take long before Nick opened his big dumb mouth.

“Say something and I will break you,” Rhys said, trying to sound threatening, but he pretty much failed in that department since birth. He got a snicker in return before Rhys heard the warning sound of heels clacking quickly over to their side of the stage.

“It's your turn chatty cathies,” Nisha said and stopped in front of Nick and Rhys, her eyes glittered over Rhys for a second in a flirty way he was beginning to become familiar with, then they flickered over to Nick, sizing him up with precision.

“How well are you two at doing splits?” she asked and without even answering, Nick boldly hit his crotch to the ground and Nisha let out a laugh and a whistle. RHys shook his head at him.

“I can if I’m warmed up to do so,” Rhys said, helping Nick up by grabbing his arm.

“Mmmm I don’t need proof from you Legs,” Nisha said with a grin. “So one of the routines you both know pretty well is Primadonna, I looked at the list, I’ve seen about a good handful of your performances before. Legs does more in the burlesque department and Hot Shot here does more work on the pole.”

Nisha stated these things firmly and shooed the other performers off center stage.   
“I want to see you two fellas move, can someone put on the Primadonna number!?”

There was clattering of heel’d shoes on stage, moving to Nisha’s will, someone hopped up behind the sound booth and Rhys and Nick got center stage. Rhys was popping his neck back into a roll when Nick started muttering to him.

“This almost feels like a competition ya know?” Nick insinuated.

“What are you going to bet?” Rhys muttered back, “and what are we even trying to bet for.”

Nick met Rhys’s eye over his shoulder, a hand on his hip, “you buying me drinks the next two weeks after work and vise versa.”

He rolled his shoulders back and Rhys felt some of his interest peak at the idea of free drinks.

“Oh and we’re gonna see who is the bigger primadonna, I would say diva, but divas have no class.”

Rhys bent forward into a long stretch, “says the biggest diva here.”

The music countdown started, Nick made a hand to eye gesture at Rhys, who snickered, caught the countdown at 1 before turning on his heel and facing the crowd. It was a choreographed number, one Rhys remembered well because Vasquez pushed for Rhys to present it, but instead Henderson made the call to have Nick present the routine to the audience. 

It was a slow hip gyration that sank them down, all the way to the ground, legs and outstretched arms on the floor. They would crawl and tumble to the front of the stage, sit up and shimmy forward before lifting up to the beat drop. Rhys’s head was not too into it, or rather it was going about the performance too technically, he had this routine driven into him. As the slow verses came back there was a switch, a slight way he caught seeing the green in Jack’s eyes flash at him from the front row, whispering into Nisha’s ear as she stared on.

He remembered lighting his body on fire, yesterday, it was so fresh in his mind, he couldn’t see himself, but imaging it was enough. He arched his back higher on the ground and let his face relax and pop his jaw down to open his mouth. Using the arch he sat up, holding his hands across his arms, looking back over his shoulders, with his lashes, licking his lips just slightly. On cue to the lyrics he used his middle finger to swirl it around in the air, stretching his arms up before his body snapped up in time. There was screaming, Rhys was less aware of Nick on stage with him.  He kept moving, flicking his legs out and pouting, his face felt red and so so soft on his muscles, like he was made of petals. 

Rhys felt it, it was in his veins, on fire, conquering him, a feeling he can only place when he was really high off of sex and confidence. It’s not like he hasn’t done this before, but he always got so caught up that by the time he and Nick were done with the routine Rhys was on the stage with his legs spread out and back arched, panting slightly. He rubbed his hand against his mouth, coming down from it. If he was not super reminded of being in a public area Rhys would of been as hard as a rock right now.

Nisha was giving him a hungry look in her eyes, vibrating in her spot, Jack- Jack had stood up and left towards the back. Nisha hopped on stage and started picking at the routine, improving certain areas with Rhys and Nick.

 

* * *

 

After rehearsals Nisha asked Rhys to look at the costume wardrobe with her. Which meant she had him try on costumes for her while she crassly complimented him. Rhys had finished pulling on a set of thick alabaster white lingerie that hugged his body tightly when Nisha wrapped her arms up and around him, her face buried in the side of his neck.

“You look super pretty in this, I wanna ride you many ways babe,” she whispered into his ear, causing a delightful shudder to roll through Rhys. Nisha had stripped down quickly and demanded Rhys keep the costume on.

She pushed Rhys back on a pile of costumes that Nisha decided really needed to be burned. The woman climbed on top of Rhys and straddled his head in between her knees, grabbing his hair for grip.

“Baby boy I’m going to ride your face, then your dick and for dessert I’ll let you cum down my throat again, just like last night,” she purred and those three things were all that Rhys wanted and more.

Rhys grabbed Nisha by her thighs and delved his tongue in between her folds, playing over her entrance with his tongue before making his way up to her clit. She held onto his hair hard and moaned praises when his lips wrapped around her clit, tongue massaging against it and sucking on her labia on the hood. He hips bucked against his face and Rhys felt his cock twitch.

Nisha yanked his face away before she was moving down on him, letting her heat sink down and drown him. Rhys let out a breathless moan and jerked up into her hips moving down on him. It was hot, too hot and Nisha kept squeezing him tightly. In between the blissed out mess he was, Rhys had reached down and thumbed at Nisha’s clit until she was cumming around him, tight and hard, still moving over his cock.

Once she was done riding herself out, she sank lower and Rhys’s cock became acquainted with the back of Nisha’s throat. It was painfully good and when Rhys had finished down her throat, Nisha grabbed Rhys for some cuddling.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be the new director,” Rhys stated and Nisha laughed.

“Yeah well directing performers at a gay burlesque strip club sounded interesting, Jack pays me handsomely too, on top of the money I make from the studio it’s a steal, plus,” Nisha paused to grab Rhys’s ass, causing him to jump, “I can’t get enough of that cute ass of yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave some comments my dudes, I love the encouragement, it helps me get chapters out faster ;)
> 
> Tumblr: @Euphoriawriter

**Author's Note:**

> Leave some comments, I wanna hear your thoughts people!!!
> 
> Tumblr: @Euphoriawriter


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